Déjà Vu
by Sybariticfanfiction
Summary: Just a short one shot bc I love Lucatiel and messing around with my Bearer of the Curse headcanons.
**My name's Syb and my daith hurts like hell right now**

 **who fricken knew healing is actually the painful part.**

 **It looks nice though.**

 **This'll probably be a one shot (they say, every single time it _is_ not a one shot). I just wanted to mess around with the whole infinite loop thing that's in both Dark Souls 1 and 2 and how it seems like only the BotC and Shanalotte remember. **

**I mean. I don't think it would be a clean wipe, to be honest. Especially because like Lucatiel and Benhart's achievement requirements carry over playthroughs?Like they get déjà vu every time they talk to the Bearer of the Curse.**

 **I also decided to make it super gay.**

 ** _You're welcome_.**

 **Warnings ! ! ! Mentions canon typical violence and time loop bullshit. BotC uses she/her and they/them in this fic, and is referred to as the monarch.**

 **Oh! And implied polyamory bc Chloanne/Rosabeth/Shanalotte is _the bomb._**

* * *

Despite knowing the Bearer of the Curse for several months, Lucatiel is not quite sure what to make of her. There's _something_ behind the bright eyes and hesitant smile that makes the knight pause, searching for something she can't remember.

Sometimes she's... Unbearably apathetic, as exhibited when they took the offered effigy without explaining such a trinket could've helped the knight cling onto her humanity. A decision she later went back on, granted, but nonetheless unforgivable to Lucatiel.

But other times, Lucatiel wonders if its not apathy that guides them but singleminded determination. When faced with Alsanna, the tiny priestess of Eleum Loyce, she didn't hesitate to singlehandedly fight dozens of charred Loyce knights in order to get the ridiculous amount of souls needed to free her.

Lucatiel didn't see her do it, only returning hours later to find the ice surrounding the priestess completely destroyed. They spoke briefly, enough for the Mirran to tire of hearing Alsanna praise the Bearer. Yes, the supposed future monarch of Drangleic is impressive, but must she seem to... _Enamored_?

Not that Lucatiel has any reason to be envious, even if the feeling is mutual. Of course not. She has only... Told them basically everything and fought by her side for months now.

The realization the future monarch might be her closest friend now is startling enough, but Alsanna seems to think there's even more to it.

"Are you courting her? The champion?" The priestess asks calmly, her sharp eyes watching for Lucatiel's reaction.

" _What?_ " Lucatiel replies.

Alsanna gives the slightest of smiles, apparently amused by the knight's loss of composure. "She mentioned you. It's been many years since I've heard such warmth."

Warmth. Was she _blushing_?

Are all priestess' so cryptic?

Lucatiel left after that, bidding Alsanna a short goodbye and making a vague promise to visit when next in the area. Her assumptions haunt the knight as she travels back to Majula to repair her equipment (and hopefully avoid the Bearer of the Curse).

Weeks later she still repeats, _Courting?_

It's not as if the idea is foreign, seeing as both Lucatiel and her brother had many potential suitors in Mirrah, but... The monarch?

 _Where did Alsanna even get such an idea? What did that Undead say, exactly?_

And why can't Lucatiel stop thinking about it? Why does this feel _familiar?_

She has a million questions and not a single answer.

Ignoring the social repercussions of dating the heir to a fallen country, why would she...? It's not as if she _fancies_ the Curse Bearer. She's just an ungodly strong Undead, and not even an especially kind one, at that (although the pyromancer in Majula staunchly claims otherwise).

But there's... Something.

Something that makes Lucatiel greet her in Majula the next time they cross paths, despite the knight's better judgement.

"Lucatiel!" She says, eyes wide. "I didn't... I've never seen you in Majula before." The way she says it makes Lucatiel pause, as if she can't decide between being excited and being utterly confused.

Lucatiel, likewise, can't decide if that particular expression is endearing or irritating. Why does the ruler of all Drangleic have to be so cute? Why did Alsanna have to bring that fact to Lucatiel's attention?

"You said the same when we met in Eleum Loyce." Lucatiel notes, trying to appear cool and collected as per usual. It's easier with the mask, at least.

"It was true in that case too." She admits with a shrug. "Not that seeing you more is unpleasant! I actually really like talking to you, when you're not super stressed and whatnot," She adds, waving her hands uselessly in front of her. "Oh, god, I'm making this worse."

Even her _mannerisms_ are cute, Lucatiel thinks with narrowed eyes. Nonetheless, she assures the smaller Undead, "You haven't offended me."

"Oh. Great." She smiles in return, "So... What've you been doing?"

"Relaxing, for the most part. That Herald doesn't talk much, does she?" Lucatiel says, figuring she'd know the Herald better than most.

"That happens when you've been around so long. Some people just... Freeze themselves out." The Bearer of the Curse hums. Her expression falls, settling into what isn't quite a frown.

Trying to remain upbeat, Lucatiel knows with utmost certainty. She _always_ tries to be cheerful and motivating. (Lucatiel remembers her laughter being mixed with tears and hands pressing against a wound to her abdomen. _Geez, Luca, learn how to dodge_ ).

 _That never happened_ , she tells herself, trying to focus on the monarch's words. "You speak as if you know her pain." She prompts, moving one hand to cover the imaginary wound.

"I... It'd be silly to explain. And there's much better things to talk about! I've got two crowns, you know. More than halfway there! And then I'll be the ruler, and you can live in the castle with me if you'd like. The Herald already says she will, and Rosabeth and Chloanne will follow her, of course, and Lenigrast will be the royal blacksmith and-" They babble on, while Lucatiel mentally stumbles over 'you can live with me'.

As friends, right?

 _Obviously_ , some part of Lucatiel snaps. _She invited the others too!_

"Lucatiel?" The Undead in question says, reaching up to lay a hand on her shoulder. "Am I really that boring?" She laughs.

"No, not at all. I simply..." The Curse Bearer's expression falls, and Lucatiel winces. _She knows I'm lying._ "What... What did you tell Alsanna?" She forces the words out.

"Alsanna?" She repeats, raising her eyebrows.

Lucatiel resists the urge to roll her eyes, "The priestess."

"I know who you're referring to. What do you mean though? I don't think I mentioned you outside of saying you helped me with the king, and you seem to be... Spooked." She says, tilting her head to the side curiously.

 _So she purposely made it seem as if... She likes me? And I fell for it?_ This entire situation is making Lucatiel's head hurt. "She said... Never mind. It was trivial." She sighs.

The future monarch is not one to be easily dissuaded, it seems, and doesn't drop it. "What did she say, Lucatiel?" Her voice is gentle, contrasting with the narrowed eyes and hands now resting on her hips (and Lucatiel has a brief mental image of replacing said hands with her own, although she has no idea where such an idea came from).

"She didn't say anything directly." Lucatiel huffs, recrossing her arms.

"What'd she _imply?"_ The Curse Bearer cuts right to it, her lips tilting up in amusement when Lucatiel fidgets nervously.

"She asked if I'm _courting_ you." She lowers her voice, although the only one that _might_ be within hearing distance is the blacksmith.

Her fellow Undead only blinks, the smile slipping off her face. "Courting me?" She repeats. "You're upset because someone asked if we're courting? Would... Would that really be such a bad thing?"

The Mirran recoils, eyes going wide behind her mask, "No! That's not at all what I- I'm not opposed to the suggestion, but given your everything, I thought you would be." _And an idealistic part of me hoped this would end in a confession, although I_ know _that's completely inappropriate._

"My everything?" _Of course_ that's the part they latch onto.

Lucatiel is not the sort of person to lie, but in this case she fleetingly wishes she had the ability to. She struggles to come up with a truthful response that doesn't involve trying to explain not-memories even she doesn't understand. "You're the frighteningly strong monarch, while I am a foreign knight from a less than notable family-"

She interrupts with a quiet, "You think I'm frightening?"

"I would if we were enemies." Lucatiel answers immediately, and she sighs in relief.

"Good. I wouldn't... Want you afraid of me. I don't really want anyone afraid of me, honestly." She smiles half heartedly, glancing down at her bare feet (and a small part of Lucatiel wonders if she paints her own nails or one of the others does it for her).

That _something_ rears its head again, and Lucatiel isn't sure if the phantom nails being dragged down her sides are a memory or an errant fantasy.

"Lucatiel?" The Undead hums when she doesn't respond, too busy trying to sort out the confusing almost-memories. "Earth to Lucatiel." She says, bringing her hand up to the side of her face, pinky and forefinger outstretched.

Lucatiel raises her eyebrows, although the motion goes unseen under her mask. "You are... A strange Undead."

"So you've said." She replies with a laugh. She hesitates for a moment, seeming to weigh her options. "I meant what I said you know. You're welcome in castle Drangleic. As a friend, or otherwise." The monarch leans up on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to Lucatiel's mask.

The knight hasn't the time to react before she's gone again.

 _Otherwise?_

* * *

"It's different this time, Shanalotte! Can't you feel it?" She whispers excitedly, both the Herald's hands held between her own. "Maybe... Maybe we won't reset this time, and I can take the throne and it'll just... Continue."

"We can only hope," Shanalotte answers calmly. She's _always_ the voice of reason.

The Curse Bearer laughs gleefully, squeezing Shanalotte's hands. "Hope." She repeats. "Yeah! We've got hope and love and... Determination!"

Shanalotte snickers at that, shaking her head. "When will you return to the Castle then?"

"I don't know." She shrugs, "I mean, if Lucatiel's going to be staying a while..."

"Then perhaps you will be otherwise occupied." Shanalotte finishes, her lips quirking up in amusement.

She grins wickedly in reply, " _Hopefully_."


End file.
